


Random Intervals

by Macx



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-14
Updated: 2008-05-14
Packaged: 2017-10-19 06:26:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>movie fic. A snapshot look, moments in time... and a 'What If'. Some chapters are based on the Imperfection 'verse, others can be read independently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Megatron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These ficlets (aka brain farts) never really made it past the ficlet stage, but aren't drabbles either. I didn't want them to gather dust and become toys for the dust bunnies since the plot bunnies insisted they're worth something ;)
> 
> They are based on the Imperfection 'verse, though some could be viewed as simple one-shots, too.

Have fun reading!

He must have failed.

No, he had failed.

It wasn't a new concept to him, just this time it was with devastating effects.

His homeworld lay in ruins, his people were dead or spread all over the universe.

Himself, he had died, most likely. There was no other reason for the trigger to take effect, for this shell to wake and for his now rather reduced memory to flood his copied consciousness.

It had been the emergency plan. Back then it had been sound and a guarantee of his survival, no matter what.

Waking in the ruins of Cybertron, he could only compare it to the world he had left in search for the Allspark.

Today it was worse.

Tomorrow it would be even more so.

He turned and looked at the mech standing several paces behind him, optics dead calm. He looked as war-worn as those he had seen from afar.

"No word?" he only asked.

"No, Mighty Megatron. The _Nemesis_ remains lost. It has been so for vorns."

Megatron's red optics swept over the ruins. "What about Prime?"

"The same."

His home – nothing but a dead shell any more.

Megatron could have screamed his fury to the stars.

His legacy – a world where life would soon be gone completely.

He turned and walked away from the sight.

The idea behind the download had been easy: should he perish in battle a part of him would still be there, his legacy to himself. He was a copy of the original, missing all memories right after the download. He knew every detail of the war, right down to the Autobots launching the Allspark into space to keep it from him, and that he had taken off after it.

The rest was nothing.

The transfer had been risky. Maybe he had lost other memories too in the process. No one could be sure because there was no original matrix of his mind left.

It… he had died somewhere.

Maybe Prime had killed him, Megatron mused as he passed through dark tunnels and crumbling buildings.

It was almost worth a laugh.

Optimus Prime… they had ruled this planet together until… the war. Now, in retrospective, looking at everything that was dead and gone, his people slaughtered, or they had fled, things looked different. Radically different.

Megatron stopped as he entered the hangar that held the glorious war crafts of the Decepticons, looking at nothing but derelict cargo carriers and one of the once prided private cruisers. They had all been scrapped and used to repair a cargo carrier in the next hangar, a twin to the _Nemesis_ , though only in purpose. It looked far from belonging to the proud Cybertronian fleet.

"Lord Megatron," a steady, almost inflectionless voice greeted him.

He gazed at the ship, barely registering his most loyal soldier.

"We are ready."

Ready to leave.

Ready to abandon what he had fought to rule and shape under his power.

He had only succeeded in making it inhospitable, without hope, without a future, and now he had to leave.

Megatron felt the anger and fury rise, the scream wanting to emerge, but he just brushed past Soundwave, who followed him wordlessly.

The _Predator_ lifted off from the dead world, crumbling the hangar, shattering the remaining windows of the surrounding buildings. It hung above Cybertron for a moment, then the pilot turned it and engaged the deep space engines. Slowly she detached herself from the metal world's gravity and crawled off into the darkness of space.

**Author's Note to this ficlet: The idea came to me while thinking about how Megatron could possibly return in the movie 'verse since his spark was destroyed by the Allspark. The download/safety copy seemed like a viable idea, and something he would do to insure his survival.**


	2. Ironhide and Lennox

And now for a resemblance of smut... I barely make it past the R-ish rating, really. It's also the longest ficlet in the series so far.

When Ironhide had constructed the simulation chamber, a lot of the soldiers stationed at the Autobot base had been interested in trying out the training programs. The mech had explained that simulators were something the Cybertronians had regularly used on their home planet, as well as on military vessels to keep recruits up to date. It had been easy enough to find a spare room that permitted mechs of all sizes to use it, as well as allow access for the humans.

Forty-five minutes.

The black figure moved with elegance and fluid grace. Larger than the average human, small for a Cybertronian, Will Lennox had employed his protoform alternate shape to confront what the training program threw at him. He had grown very much accustomed to the protoform. It wasn't a true mechanoid protoform, just a simulated one, and he was still a strange blend of flesh and blood underneath. He could bleed and had already done so when confronting the crazed Sector Seven experiment.

Sixty minutes.

Lennox was hardly tired. One level followed another. He had just beat five guys attacking him at once and they all sizzled out the same fashion as the first. Either Ironhide's program was sissy-stuff, or… Lennox laughed at himself.

The doors opened and the program froze, allowing the visitor safe entry. It was one of many safety features and it made sense. The chamber had no spectator rows, only cameras that allowed someone else to watch should the trainee choose to enable that function. If anyone walked inside, he needed to be safe.

Ironhide's figure was silhouetted against the glaring outside light. Blue optics glowed softly in a dark face and Will shot his friend and partner a smile. His protoform face was roughly molded after his human one, though no one could really say it was Will as a robot. He twirled the rod he had used to defend himself lazily between the fingers of his left hand, then transferred it to his right.

"Hey," he greeted the Autobot.

"Heard you were hanging around. Thought I'd come and see what you were up to."

Ironhide stepped into the room and the door slid closed.

Will smiled humorlessly. "I thought I'd blow some steam. But this program of yours sucks."

"Is that so?" Ironhide folded his arms and stared at Lennox with a frown.

The chamber was his baby. He had designed it. Insulting the simulations was an insult to Ironhide.

Will raised his chin. "Yeah."

"What level have you tried?"

"The first five. Child's play."

"I see. So you are looking for a challenge?"

Lennox twirled the rod once again and set the corners of his mouth. He was ready for a fight - a real fight. It wasn't the first time he and Ironhide went up against each other, but the last few times the mech had always managed to overpower him one way or another. He was just a lot more seasoned. He had experience and Will was still too set in his human way of fighting. That would change with more practice, something the simulator was for, too.

"Volunteering?" Lennox just asked.

Ironhide smirked.

"Choice of weapons?"

"Whatever becomes available," was the weapons specialist's answer.

Will nodded. Fair. He threw the rod away and waited for Ironhide to choose another program. It gave them a more natural setting, though not nature itself. An abandoned building with all kinds of debris and a lot of weaponry to choose from.

The smirk on Ironhide's face was plainly visible. It was more of a shit-eating grin anyway. Blue optics glowed and Will was drawn between laughter and glaring at his partner. He was pinned to the ground, flat on his back, Ironhide's weight keeping him down. His hands were twisted over his head and held in a vice-like grip.

"Giving up?" Ironhide taunted.

Now Will glared.

It had been a tough fight, to their limits, and he knew Ironhide could have drawn blood, so to speak, but instead he had just bruised him a lot. Despite the protoform body, when he changed back to human he would show those injuries, even as minor as they were now.

"Yeah, I give up," Lennox growled.

"Good boy."

"Don't overdo it, Ironhide."

It got him a laugh.

As Ironhide released his hands, he trailed the free hand over the outstretched upper body. He was still straddling Will and in any other kind of shape – like a human body – their position would have been quite compromising.

Will caught the hand and his ice blue optics caught Ironhide's darker ones. No words were spoken, but something shivered through Will. Cybertronians had no physical intercourse, but there was something called the learning curve when it came to them understanding humans. Ironhide had already shown he adapted to his human partner's needs.

"Is this an offer?" Will asked quietly, breaking the silence.

"Would you accept?"

Instead of an answer, Will placed his hand on Ironhide's chest, watched the runes rise to the surface of his protoform skin and coalesce.

Ironhide's optics flashed with rising expectation.

Lennox smiled and did what was now becoming almost natural, like a sixth sense when it concerned sharing. The rush was amazing, flooding his senses, pulling him along a ride no human could ever understand or experience. His body and mind sang, reverberating with the energies of them both. Everything felt so much sharper, clearer, was so much stronger and filled with such… such energy, it was breathtaking and vitalizing in one. Will knew it was only moments in human time, but for a mech it was both intense and long, both rushed and deep. A part inside of him he had come to call the 'Allspark part' pulsed gently, adding to the sensation, and he knew that for Ironhide, sharing with him was different than with a 'normal' mech.

When he returned to the reality of the world around them, blue optics regarded him with a gentle light. He had reverted back to human again and his skin was awash with runes.

"That good, huh?" he murmured lazily.

Ironhide chuckled. "I hope for both of us."

"You gotta ask?"

Lennox got up and glanced at his bare arms. It was like looking at the surface of the Allspark, all cosmic code and Ancient Cybertronian writing. Ironhide ran a blunt finger tip over one arm, drawing pulsing runes in his wake.

"Don't have to ask," he finally said, sounding smug.

Will laughed a little. "I think I better keep these under cover till the tingles wear off." He pulled on his jacket. "Don't want Prime to have a pump failure."

Ironhide only smirked.

They left the training chamber not much later. Will went for a shower and lunch, Ironhide to check on his latest weapons tests. It came as no great surprise that they gravitated together again. Lennox still had his sandwich in hand as he walked into Ironhide's lab, and even their silence spoke volumes.

Leaning against the wall as he sat on the work bench, Will watched his partner work. He felt content. Calm. At peace. And so did the runes.

It was weird and he wouldn't have believed it years ago, but being with Ironhide, in a relationship that defied human definition, was like something he had always been looking for without knowing it.


	3. Chapter 3

Something really, really brief...

A shadow moved through the ruins, darkness against darkness, nearly undetectable by the naked optic. But only nearly. One pair was watching, glowing a deep red, biding his time.

The shadow stopped, no muscle cable moving, then went to the left and entered what had been a factory plant before the war had blown half of it away.

The other moved, too. Silent. Like a predator.

He followed the intruder, watched every move, noted with detached interest how the only slightly smaller one made barely a sound. His own feet never so much as crunched a pebble. His scans remained undetected.

And then the intruder was suddenly gone. For a moment his scanners were seeing him, the next he was.. simply gone.

He stopped, surprised.

And then there was a sound.

He turned and a pair of blue optics came at him out of the darkness, lightning fast and so unexpected, he had no time to even raise his gun.

Still, he was hardly defeated. Rolling with the other, he used their momentum to flip him off his own body, then grabbed for an arm.

He caught a wrist.

Blue flared, meeting likewise heated red.

"Sneaky bastard."

He chuckled, low and dangerous. "Nice trick, Autobot. I nearly fell for it."

"You did fall for it," his opponent declared, sounding amused. "If I had used my gun, you'd be venting air through a new hole in your armor."

He chuckled darkly. "Hardly."

"Want to try again?" came the playful reply.

He pulled the other in, met the amused optics. "You want to waste our time playing?"

The playfulness mixed with mischief. "Depends on the game."

That was purr. Clear and simple. And it ran through his processor right down into his spark. They had so little time and they were in danger of discovery, but still…

"Jazz," he said his name.

He felt a thrum from his spark, wanting this so very much. Too much time had passed.

"No more games," the Autobots second-in-command said seriously, his spark pulsing just like his own.

"How long till you're missed?"

"'bout the same as you have," was the reply.

He opened his side of the bond, meeting the already open one of his spark-bonded. They merged in a brief, weak image of the true sharing they hadn't experienced in so long. Barricade knew they both wanted more, needed more, but the chance of discovery was too great. He would never betray Jazz, but his loyalty was to Megatron, too. They were on opposing sides. They didn't have the leisure of sharing completely.

As they parted, blue optics flared with need and Barricade knew he reflected that need.

They would meet again.

Somehow, some time in the future, hiding themselves until then.

"Be careful," Jazz said softly. "Don't get yourself scrapped."

He smiled humorlessly. "Same to you, too, Autobot."

And then Jazz was just a shadow again, sneaking out of the former factory building, disappearing into the gloom of Cybertron dusk. Barricade moved quickly out the other side, then transformed and drove off, keeping his scanners peeled for enemy activity.

His spark ached.

Told ya it's brief!

And this is on Cybertron, middle of the war, before they crashed on Earth - just in case someone was wondering...


	4. Jazz and Barricade

"You let him do what?" Jazz exclaimed.

"Work off his emotions."

"Are you out of your mind? He could have torn you apart!"

Barricade sneered. "Hardly."

The silver mech shoved his black counterpart against the wall. Hard. It rattled a few of Barricade's systems.

"I know what Ratchet had to fix! What's wrong with you? What the fuck were you thinking?"

"That it's in our mutual interest to work off frustration."

Another hard shove. "Ironhide's close enough to the edge to confuse friend and foe!"

"He didn't have to confuse me with anyone."

"Barricade!"

"I see it as a rather extended sparring session," his partner said coolly. "No harm done. And he has calmed down. I rather enjoyed it."

Jazz pushed away, shaking his head in disbelief. "Is this some Decepticon tactic to deal with frustration?"

Barricade laughed darkly. "No. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, Jazz. I know how to defend myself and Ironhide wasn't in full battle mode. Otherwise he would have taken out more than a few dead trees."

Jazz hissed softly, still furious. "I think you developed a strange way of showing your loyalty, Cade," he finally growled.

The former Decepticon frowned, optics flaring briefly. "I have no loyalty to the Autobots!"

"Right! You just help, protect and save our friends, and you let Ironhide use you to work off his temper for no other reason than that it is fun!"

"It was fun. He's a worthy opponent."

Jazz glared. "He could tear you apart."

"He would have to get me first."

"What? He did get you, Cade!" Jazz exploded. "What in the name of Cybertron are you thinking!"

"That it furthers no cause to suppress your emotions when there is an outlet. His worry about the human clouded his logic processors."

"Lennox is our friend. Ironhide likes him. He's allowed to feel bad about it all."

Barricade laughed harshly. "I keep wondering how you lot survived until today."

Jazz gave him a rough shove. "Because we care," he snarled.

The other tilted his head, studying his silver partner. "Growing attachments to such perishable creatures is foolish."

"According to you, attachments of any kind are foolish," Jazz said sharply. "But you did it anyway! And don't tell me you protected Sam out of the goodness of your spark."

Barricade caught one wrist and held that arm, meeting the enraged blue optics. "I form my attachments by necessity," he said levelly. "I protect who I see fit." His voice lowered. "And what we share is neither a simple attachment, nor just necessity."

Jazz felt his muscle cables relax a little. "I wasn't…"

"You were. I told you before, I don't care about the others. Not the way I care about you. They are an attachment to you and I deal with them. Ironhide has never trusted me and never will. His actions concerning me were born out of that distrust, his anger, his fear and his memories of the war. I wouldn't let any of your friends kill me. You can be sure of that."

Jazz was silent for a moment, then slumped next to him. His inner uproar was still muttering and bitching, but it was quieting down. He rarely lost his temper, but Barricade had managed to make him do so quite quickly.

"You know, maybe dying once made me sappy," he murmured. "Or getting you back on the same side was too much of a good thing. I think I'm getting system glitches. I can't remember ever being so… so… emotionally flaky."

Barricade chuckled. "You were always the more emotional." He leaned closer. "Which isn't necessarily a bad thing. I never complained."

Jazz quirked a smile. "Yeah."

"Autobot," Barricade added, voice filled with mild teasing.

"Lunatic."

It got him a terrifying grin.

The former Decepticon released his hand and Jazz regarded his companion. Ratchet had done good work hammering out the worst, but there were enough scuff marks left. Barricade would need some energon and enough time to work out the last problems.

"C'mon," Jazz sighed and pushed away from the wall. "I need to get out of here."

Barricade transformed as Jazz did and both drove away, seeking out one of their regular spots. Barricade didn't fight his companion's nearness as their sparks slid closer.

What he had done hadn't been some falsely understood act of charity. He hadn't let Ironhide beat him up just because the Autobot needed it or because Barricade was smaller. Size didn't matter. He could take the weapons specialist apart and not strain a muscle cable if he wanted to. No, this had been mutual. They had worked off their difference in more than verbal sparring sessions and dark looks. Ironhide had put as much of his hatred of Decepticons into this as Barricade had burned off his aggressions.

It had been… extremely satisfying.

He smirked and felt a shift in Jazz's presence. His companion curled closer, rattled by the latest events concerning the human, and Barricade let him. He could argue he did it to appease the other mech, but truthfully… it just felt too good.


	5. Starscream

Tackling another Decepticon, so to speak...

He had come home.

Home to a world he no longer recognized. Home to ruins and his people struggling to survive each day.

Starscream stood on an outcropping of metal that had once been the Academy, a place where he had learned to handle his abilities, develop his talents, and become who he was today – just like so many other mechs before him.

Around him was a wasteland.

The proud buildings of before had crumbled. The awe-inspiring Spirals were nothing but shards of their former glory. They no longer reflected the sun, or the stars throughout the night. The mosaics on the ground had disappeared. The housing structures had been flattened. Some were just craters.

Starscream felt something inside his spark break at the devastation.

All the time he had spent flying home, crossing hostile space, barren vistas of lifeless planets, moons and asteroid fields, he had envisioned coming home to the glory of Cybertron, but part of him had known it was an illusion. Without the Allspark there was no life. They could independently power parts of the planet, but the energon needed was no longer there. The war had eaten away at their society, their planet, and them.

Megatron was dead. The Allspark destroyed.

And Cybertron was dead.

He jumped off the outcropping and transformed, flying through the ruins, looking for life. He had met only one soul so far, an old mech who bore no insignia. He had scrounged around the former Academy, looking for any kind of scraps. From him Starscream had learned that many had fled, had dispersed all over the universe. The Cybertronians had become homeless. There were rumors of the last Decepticon battle ship leaving their world several cycles ago. Some even believed Megatron had returned to take those worthy of him away and start a new empire.

Starscream had scoffed at that.

Megatron was dead. An empty shell, his spark annihilated by the Allspark. The humans had done him a favor, ridding him of the powerful Decepticon leader, as well as those morons he had had to put up with in his search for the Allspark.

The Autobots, well, four of them anyway, were on Earth, far away from Cybertron. Starscream had seen no threat in them. He had planned on coming home, taking over where Megatron had left off, and rule their world. He had wanted to restore the planet to its glorious past self.

Now he saw the sheer immensity of the war.

He had never seen it before.

Landing near their old headquarters, the flyer winced inwardly. It looked like half of it had burned so hot, it had turned into a molten heap. Debris crunched under his feet.

There was movement to one side and he reacted instinctively, bringing up his gun.

"Starscream?"

The voice was familiar and the ID code sent via private Decepticon channels was for real. Still, he didn't lower his weapon.

"Thundercracker?" he asked warily.

The mech that stepped out into the open looked like Thundercracker, but he had seen better days. His paint job was sloppy, his armor in bad need of repair, and apparently he had switched off the self-repair in favor of other functions.

"You're back," Thundercracker stated evenly.

"Looks like it. Where are the others?"

A shrug. "Skywarp's disappeared. Just like Soundwave and some of the others. There were rumors about Megatron's return…"

"Megatron's dead!" Starscream spat. "He died on some forsaken Pit of a planet! I saw his spark extinguished!"

Thundercracker didn't react to his furious outbreak. "Dirge saw a ship take off. He said Megatron was supposedly on board."

"He's off line! He perished!" the former Decepticon second-in-command repeated, voice rising. "Those are stupid rumors! But I'm back and I'm going to rebuild Cybertron to even greater glory than ever before!"

That got Starscream a chuckle. "With what? The Allspark sustained us. It's gone. We're dying here, Starscream. All of us. Many have already died. Some of us still struggle, some have given up."

Starscream's optics flared red. "We will rise again!" he declared. "Under my leadership! You will see! A better Cybertron than before!"

Thundercracker smiled tiredly. "Sure. For now I'll just find myself some energon to live a little longer."

With that he transformed and shot off.

Starscream watched him disappear, shaking with fury.

"I will rebuild this world!" he whispered to himself. "Better than before! More glorious than even Megatron would have imagined! You just watch and see!"

His voice echoed through the ruins. He got no reply. Everything was eerily silent. Lost and forgotten.

Starscream launched himself into the sky, then transformed and followed Thundercracker's still faint trail. He would gather all surviving Decepticons, reclaim his home, rebuild it, shape their future!


	6. Optimus Prime

A little bit of Optimus Prime... poor guy...

Optimus Prime studied the data pad Ironhide had handed him and his optics were fixed on the numbers displayed there. Numbers and names. The numbers were bad enough, but the names made it nearly unbearable. He lowered the report and looked out of the window overlooking the City. Cold facts.

Names without faces. He didn't know anyone on this list, but all of them had died because of him.

A casualty list.

Optimus shuddered and wished he could simply file away these facts in his mind like he filed away the report. He accessed a folder and hesitated. He hated the folder. It looked like nothing special was in it, but it was the most important folder among the whole collection. Maybe it should be colored in black, to fit its contents, but it was just a neutral gray.

He opened it and was confronted with a whole collection of the dreaded papers. They dated back to the first days of the Cybertronian civil war. Optimus still remembered that day, hearing about the Lord High Protector launching an attack on an outpost of the Elite Guard. He had always thought Megatron capable of walking over proverbial dead bodies to insure their planet's survival, their people's survival, but never literally. He had killed mechs who had been loyal to Cybertron for all their existence.

They had been wiped out.

Unsuspecting.

Unprepared.

This time there had been twenty-three off-lined.

Only twenty-three, a tiny voice in his mind said. It could have been more. But it also could have been less! He felt sick to the core. This should not have happened! He had been there, he could have done something!

The image of the crumbling building was burned into his mind, like so many other catastrophic events. This time he had not seen the bodies, but there had been times when he had seen them: mangled, broke, lifeless bodies – their sparks extinguished.

They had perished protecting their leader, Optimus Prime. They had given their sparks to keep him safe as he and others had made for safer grounds. Ironhide had been at his side and he knew Ratchet had been there later. He hadn't said a word about the dead, but Optimus had seen it in his optics.

Slaughtered.

Because their leader's life was so much more important. Because they believed Prime could throw off Megatron's crushing grip on their world.

For so long as the Allspark was safe, so were they.

Optimus felt a tremor run through his system.

We can rebuild structures and repair streets, but we can't bring back the dead!

Not even the Allspark could.

Optimus rose out of his chair and walked over to the window, hands clasped behind his back. Curse this war! It has already cost enough lives!

His fist connected with the wall and he dented it slightly. Optimus gave a hiss of anger and frustration.

This is war, the small voice told him. Mechs die.

Of course they did. And he saw how many had died in this one already. He had access to all the numbers, all the ended lives, all the senseless deaths. He knew there was death and he hated himself for letting it happen.

Optimus leaned heavily against the wall, staring at the folder and the single report not yet filed away. Disgust nearly overwhelmed him and he suddenly had the urge to get out of here, to leave the claustrophobic confines of his office. He needed space, he needed air - he needed to get his mind on other things.

But what was there aside from the war?

Nothing.

It was their existence, and maybe one day it would be all their death. Because as long as the Allspark was on Cybertron, no one was safe.

Someone needs a hug now! :)


End file.
